


Things Work Until They Don’t

by irretrievablynerdy



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: A Challenger Appears!, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-25 12:55:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2622548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irretrievablynerdy/pseuds/irretrievablynerdy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Which Bitty Gets a Boyfriend Who's Not Jack; Feelings Ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ngozi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ngozi/gifts).



> With tremendous thanks to @northerndownpour, who was my beta reader for this first chapter. Also, further tremendous thanks to Ngozi, who created this wonderful world and its endlessly engaging characters. This is my first attempt at a fic, so I hope y'all enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1, In Which Bitty Meets the Captain of the Soccer Team

“No, not another fucking blue shell! I swear to God I will burn your biology notes!”

Bitty watched with amusement as Ransom continued to beat the crap out of Holster at Mario Kart. It was a Saturday night in early November and the Haus was hosting a forty-person pregame, which was by Haus standards a relatively minor affair. A bunch of hockey players and others from various Samwell athletic teams were scattered throughout the house doing their best to get good and shitfaced before heading out into the cold to parties across campus. Bitty had wandered into the den in order to escape the crowds scattered throughout the rest of the Haus and had been happily surprised to find Ransom and Holster trying to viciously destroy one another on Rainbow Road. 

Bitty watched for a while, landing a well-placed chirp whenever the opportunity presented itself. He wondered briefly why they weren’t stalking the beer pong tables, but as if on cue, Lardo and Shitty’s voices could suddenly be heard. They were raised in victory over some hapless visitors. 

“Hell yeah, bro! You guys put up a fuckin’ fight, though. You even managed to sink two cups before we beat you! That’s better than those dudes from the football team, right, Lardo?” Shitty’s slightly slurred baritone suggested he had probably had a few drinks besides those inflicted on him by their opponents. 

Lardo's much clearer soprano had a rather playful edge to it. “Chyeah, you guys should definitely come back sometime. You might actually be good after playing with us some more! Maybe the soccer team could actually win at something then!” Eric grinned to himself as Lardo continued chirping her victims. It was entirely possible that Lardo was more drinks deep than Shitty was; that woman was to beer pong what Bitty was to pies. 

Their competitors soundly vanquished, Lardo and Shitty wandered into the den and sat down on the ratty green couch as Holster limped into eleventh place. 

“Wow, Holtzy, that’s even worse than usual,” said Lardo, smirking slightly.

Holster made a face. “Yeah, well, Rans plays dirty.”

“I do not! You’re just terrible. And bro, you were ahead of me for a little bit in the second race!”

“Yeah, and then you somehow blue-shelled me TWICE AND hit me with a fucking bomb afterwards!”

“Don’t hate the player, hate the g—,“ but Ransom was interrupted by Holster tackling him before he could finish his sentence. 

Eric was by this point used to Ransom and Holster’s impromptu wrestling matches, so he, Shitty, and Lardo carried on as though there weren’t two large defensemen trying to pin each other to the floor in front of the couch.

“Yo Bits, you got any leftover pie around? I’m starving after wiping the floor with those guys,” said Shitty. “Granted, Lardo did most of the work, but there’s something about seeing a fuckin’ artist in action that makes me hungry.” Lardo’s expression was unreadable, but Eric thought he saw a slight blush before he turned to Shitty.

“I think the frogs ate the last of what I made earlier today, but I’ll make you another one!” Bitty glanced at the writhing pile of hockey player, smiling. “Also, I’d better get out of here before there’s collateral damage.” 

***

The party had emptied out quite a bit already, but a few stragglers were gathered around the beer pong table. The frogs were searching through the big pile of coats by the door, evidently about to head out together. As Eric turned right into the kitchen, distracted by Nursey and Dex's perpetual-yet-adorable bickering, he ran face first into a torso that was apparently made out of solid muscle. Looking up slightly, he noticed that the torso was attached to a darkly-stubbled face, which was currently looking at him with some concern. 

“Oh shit, sorry! Are you ok?” Eric was suddenly distracted by the stranger’s bright eyes and shock of black hair, which was combed back with shaved sides not unlike Eric’s. He was probably about Shitty’s height, which was to say, of course taller than Eric, but not so much that it was uncomfortable. Eric managed to come to his senses before he spent too much time staring at the stranger’s well-muscled arms.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fi— fine.” he stammered, blushing furiously. Those eyes were _green_.

“Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah, I’m good, don’t worry. Can I help you find something?” Eric asked, suddenly wondering why this guy was in his kitchen.

“Well, I was looking for some beer, but most of what I saw in the fridge was butter, so…” He trailed off, but then looked at Eric for a moment as if realizing something. “Wait a sec, you’re the one who bakes! Justin was telling me about you.” 

Bitty stared blankly for a moment before he remembered that his teammates had names they presumably used in the real world. “He mentioned me?”

“Yeah, we were talking the other day in lab… Oh, crap, I’m sorry, you don’t even know my name! I’m Diego,” he said, sticking out his hand. Bitty shook it, still trying to comprehend who this tanned, baking-interested adonis in his kitchen was. “Justin and I have biochem together.” He frowned slightly. “He told me we’d play some beer pong, but instead I got my ass handed to me by some drunk dude and a tiny girl who’s apparently your team manager?”

Bitty giggled now that he knew who Lardo had destroyed earlier. “I’m Eric, and the beer pong whisperer was Lardo. Er, Larissa.” Sympathy for a Lardo victim alongside a somewhat less noble stirring of attraction were putting Bitty in a generous mood. “I think Rans— er, Justin keeps some of the good beer hidden in the crisper drawer under the blueberries. While you’re in there, can you hand them to me? I’ve got a pie to bake.”

“Oh, can I help?”

Bitty spun around from the counter where he was considering his spice rack, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Wait, you wanna help?” He looked Diego up and down appraisingly, not only because no one ever offered to help him bake. 

“Yeah, the oven in my apartment is total crap, so I don’t really get to bake as much as I used to. I’m not the best at pie, though.” He handed Eric the blueberries and some butter before grabbing a dark glass bottle from the crisper drawer. “Though I do make a pretty kick-ass flan, if I do say so myself,” he said, appraising the label.

Bitty glanced up from clattering around in a cabinet. “Well, this oven isn’t all that great either, but it’d be nice to have an extra pair of hands.” He started gathering various bowls and ingredients from around the kitchen. “Hmm, I can’t say that I’ve tried to make flan before. Can you set the oven to 425 degrees?” He grinned, continuing, “You might end up learning something about pie, though.”

Diego went over the oven, set the dial, and leaned up against the counter. “Well, I made some flan last Christmas that brought my tía to tears, so maybe you could learn something about that,” he said with a mischievous smile.

Eric opened his mouth to respond to this surprising (and definitely not unwelcome) competitiveness when Jack walked into the kitchen wearing a tight tanktop and pair of pajama pants. Bitty blushed faintly for the second time that night.

“Oh, hey Diego,” Jack said, apparently unsurprised to see him. “What are you still doing here? I thought everyone else left a little while ago.” 

“Wait, Jack, how do you know Diego?” asked Bitty incredulously.

“Bittle, he’s the captain of the soccer team.” Eric’s eyebrows went up again in surprise and he turned around to focus on the pie pan. Well, that explained a few things. “I’m sure he’s come by the Haus before…” Jack continued.

“Yeah, I was here last year a couple of times. I guess Eric and I just missed each other before,” Diego said, gesturing in Bitty’s direction. “I’m not really sure how, though.” Bitty, engrossed in weaving an intricate pie crust, missed the subtext. Jack’s features darkened momentarily. “We’re working on a pie at the moment,” Diego explained. “Well, I say we. I’m more here for moral support at this point.”

“Right. I just came down to get some water, so I’ll leave you to it.” Jack came up close behind Bitty, close enough that Eric could feel the warmth radiating from his body. “Ooo, blueberry? Looks good.” Eric blushed a third time. “Let me know when it’s done, eh?” he added, giving Bitty’s shoulder a squeeze before leaving the kitchen. Diego watched him go, unnoticed by Eric, who was sprinkling cinnamon on a complicated lattice of dough.

Bitty turned around with the unbaked pie in his hands. “Well, this just has to go in the oven now. Maybe I’ll steal one of Rans— Justin’s beers too.”

***

The pie was sitting on its cooling rack, done and quite cold. Bitty couldn’t understand why this incredibly attractive man was still sitting at the kitchen table talking animatedly about the merits of different types of condensed milk in _tres leches_ recipes, but he wasn’t complaining. Diego had grown up in Miami and his baking knowledge rivaled Bitty’s, but his family was Cuban, so his expertise varied a bit. Nevertheless, they were both from large, close-knit families, so they spent a long time comparing stories of childhood sports misadventures and discussing who had caused the more embarrassing setting-the-kitchen-on-fire incident. Eric couldn’t stop smiling as he watched Diego gesture energetically in the midst of his story.

Diego yawned suddenly, interrupting himself in mid-sentence. “Ah, sorry.” He glanced at the rather battered clock on the wall. “Whoa, is it almost three already? I should maybe get going. We’ve got weight training tomorrow afternoon, so I should probably try and get a little sleep.” 

He looked over at Bitty. “Um, before I go, could I ask you something?”

Bitty tensed up, uncertain of where this was going. “Uh, I guess so. What is it?”

“Well, Justin did invite me here tonight for beer pong, but he also invited me so that… he, um… so that he could introduce me to you,” he managed bashfully. “We’d been talking in lab about stuff, and he mentioned you a couple of times, and, well, I was about to go look for him when I bumped into you earlier…” He took a deep breath. “I guess what I’m asking is, could I get your phone number? It’d be great to hang out with you again, if you want to…”

The sudden realization nearly rendered Bitty speechless. He all but let his mouth hang open in shock. 

“Wh… wait, you’re gay?”

Diego laughed heartily. “ _Dios mío_ , was it not obvious? I mean, I told you that story about my brother and the barbie doll, and I’m on the soccer team. Plus we go to Samwell! One in four and all that, right?” he grinned. 

“Oh, well, yeah, I just…” Eric stammered out a few more unintelligible words, absolutely not believing what was going on right now. After what seemed to like an eternity, he managed to calm himself down enough to look up at Diego. “Here, hand me your phone.”

Feeling totally disconnected from his body, he created a new contact for himself in Diego’s phone. He handed it back to Diego, still not believing that he’d been asked for his phone number and then actually gave it out. He felt giddy and light, and couldn’t stop grinning no matter how hard he tried.

Diego returned the grin as he took back his phone. “It was great to meet you, Eric. I’ll text you soon, ok?” He stood up to leave.

Eric stood up and walked him to the door, pausing on the threshold. He felt suddenly, inexplicably bold. “Diego, you can call me Bitty. Everyone else around here does.” 

Diego looked back at him, smiling. “Sound good, Bitty. See you soon.”

Eric leaned against the door after Diego had gone, savoring the floating sensation and still not believing his luck. He was just drifting off to sleep later that night when he realized he had forgotten to tell Jack the pie was done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Diego’s not really based on anyone in particular, but I grew up in Miami with Cuban relatives, so that’s where all the stuff about Hispanic baked goods comes from.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2, In Which Jack Has Some Serious Angst

Jack dropped his bag on the floor and sat down at the kitchen table in the empty Haus. He stared at nothing for a moment before reaching down, pulling out his laptop, and settling in to read an article for class. Within five minutes, though, it became clear he couldn’t focus, even on something as interesting as the Munich agreement and the annexation of the Sudentenland. Jack kept thinking back to that night, almost two weeks ago, when Diego had met Bitty. 

Ever since Bitty had gotten checked last year, Jack had begun to look at him in a different way. Of course, he was concerned with Bitty’s well-being as a member of the team, but it was rapidly becoming more than that. He found his hands lingering when grasped with Bitty’s after pulling him up off the ice at their checking practices. He loved the way Bitty’s face lit up when he laughed. The high, joyous sound of it always made some of the tight fist of anxiety clenched in Jack’s chest relax slightly. Sometimes Jack played up his pop culture ignorance just to get Bitty to chirp him. He even occasionally suggested they go the long way when walking back from class, just to be able to stay in the presence of someone who accepted him entirely as he was and had no expectations of him whatsoever, unlike the rest of the world these days.

Jack was worried. He had never felt this way about anyone else, and aside from a brief dalliance or two, he had never really been with anyone seriously, girl or guy. All he knew was that he wanted to spend as much time in Bitty’s company as he could. Which was why, after the Haus had emptied out last weekend and finding no one in Bitty’s room, he had gone downstairs to see if Bitty was in the kitchen. Bitty had been in there, in the middle of making a pie, of course, but Jack had been somewhat surprised to also see Diego Álvarez, the captain of the soccer team. He was standing by the oven, watching Bitty work. Diego and Jack had crossed paths a few times before at athletics meetings and Haus parties and had always been friendly, but Jack had never really paid much attention to him before.

That night, however, when Jack saw the way the green-eyed, black-haired junior was looking at Bitty, Jack instantly and irrevocably hated him.

Reflecting back on it, Jack wasn't exactly proud that he’d gone over to Bitty and attempted to flirt with him before fleeing the kitchen. Bitty wasn’t some leftover plate of brownies to which he could lay claim. He was Jack’s friend, teammate, and a human being, but even Jack, emotionally inept as he was, knew that Diego represented a potential threat to his spending time with Bitty. And thus it really hurt when, later that night, Jack had wandered back down towards the kitchen to see what had happened with Bitty, Diego, and the blueberry pie. 

He’d just made it down the stairs when he heard an explosion of unfamiliar laughter, followed by Bitty’s voice. He sounded decidedly more Southern, suggesting he’d had a drink or two already.

“Ah swear on my rollin’ pin, it’s true! Katya didn’t say stuff like that all the time, though. Mostly she was very Russian and made me get up at four in the mornin’ to do sprinting drills. She always said Ah was lucky that it wasn’t also minus thirty, bless her heart.” There was a pause. “You know, come to think of it, Ah never did ask her if she meant celsius or fahrenheit.”

Diego chuckled. “I can’t imagine what a hardboiled Soviet figure skating coach was doing in the Deep South.“

“Weird, right? She and my dad got along great, though.”

Jack listened from the hallway as they continued talking and laughing. He knew he shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but he couldn’t tear himself away. Bitty was his usual cheery chatterbox self, but he was listening attentively to Diego too, and Diego could tell a story just as well as Bitty. Both of them sounded happy, and Jack was suddenly acutely aware that he could never be as good a conversation partner as Diego. Jack wasn’t exactly talkative even at the best of times, but it sounded like Diego and Bitty were on the exact same wavelength, abuzz with excitement and eager to let the other in on all the hilarious things that had happened to them. Jack stood next to the entrance to the kitchen for a while, his mood growing darker with each passing minute. He eventually forced himself to go back upstairs, but he simply lay down on his bed and stared blankly at the ceiling until sleep overcame him.

***

And now Diego and Bitty were apparently dating. At the very least, they were spending a lot of time together. Diego had been over to the Haus at least four times in the past week (not that Jack was counting), mostly to sit in the kitchen and hang out with Bitty. Everybody else in the Haus as well as the frogs had been thrilled with the improved selection of delicious baked goods. Dex, of all people, had discovered a love for pastelitos and was now chatting happily with Diego every time he came over. Jack had been mystified by that, but mostly he became sullen every time he saw Bitty and Diego together. Bitty’s cheerful greetings to Jack hadn’t changed, which somehow made Jack feel worse. It made him think that Bitty might never reciprocate Jack’s rapidly growing feelings.

Jack tried to bring himself back to reality, shaking his head as if to clear out all the dark thoughts. He sighed. He wasn’t getting any work done at the Haus, so he reasoned he might as well try the library, or maybe head over to Faber and skate. Anything besides sitting in the now-unwelcoming kitchen. 

As he was packing up his bag to leave, he heard familiar laughter from the front of the house and keys scraping in the lock. He sighed again, certain of who it was, and resolved to get out of the Haus as quickly as possible.

Bitty bounced into the kitchen with Diego right behind him. He pulled up short on seeing Jack, but smiled like always.

“Hey Jack!” came his enthusiastic greeting. “How’re you doing? Diego and I were just at the library with Ransom and Holster, but they said they were gonna have a little kegster tonight, so we figured we’d come back and get started on some food. Thirsty Thursday and all that, you know how they are.” 

“Hey Bittle. Diego. I was just heading out.”

Diego appeared to catch on to Jack’s mood. “Are you feeling ok?” he asked, looking concerned.

“I’m fine,” Jack said, somewhat more curtly than he had intended. “I just need to finish reading something, so I’ll get out of your way.”

Now Bitty was looking concerned too. “You’re more than welcome to stay, but I guess if you need some quiet…” he said. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to take with you before you go? I think there’re some cookies in the pantry, and I’ve got leftover fruit from yesterday, so I could make you a protein shake? Oh, and there’s still some of that pizza from Tuesday I could heat up, I have no idea why Shitty hasn’t devoured it yet—“

“ _Non_!” Jack yelled, interrupting him. Diego and Bitty stared at him in surprise. Jack, realizing what he had just done, stammered a bit before continuing. “Sorry guys, I’m a little tired… I should really be going now. See you later, maybe.” He spun around on one foot, left the kitchen, and practically ran out the front door, not bothering to lock it behind him.

***

“Little” turned out to mean about twenty people, but Jack wasn’t at all surprised. Ransom and Holster had a network of contacts that would have made the KGB envious. He returned from Faber before things got started, having cleared his mind slightly by skating around in circles for two hours. He was sitting at his desk, doodling offensive plays in a notebook to keep his mind off things, when Shitty opened the door to their shared bathroom and sauntered in. Jack rolled his eyes. Shitty was not much of a one for knocking.

“What are you doing hiding up here, Jack? There’s a ‘swawsome party goin’ on downstairs. Rans and Holtzy found a portable fire pit somewhere, so we’re gonna make s’mores soon!” Shitty looked pensive for a moment. “Well, we might. They were forcing the frogs to have a chubby bunny contest when I came up to get you. I hope Bitty has enough marshmallows.”

Jack didn’t ask. Some bits of American culture were too strange to bother delving into. “I’m fine, Shits. Just close the door behind you when you leave.”

Shitty immediately knew something was wrong. Jack wouldn’t have gone for something that dismissive right off the bat if he weren’t upset about something.

“Uh huh, you’re fine. Right. That’s why you’ve been sulking up here in your room for the better part of two weeks. What’s up with you, man? You may be able to fool the rest of the team at practice, but you can’t fuckin’ fool me. Bitty’s noticed too. He was just asking me if you were ok this afternoon.”

Jack couldn’t hide the shame on his face quickly enough. “Hold up, is this something to do with Bitty, then?” Shitty asked.

“No, it’s not, I’m just… worried about recruiting stuff for next year is all.” Jack instantly felt terrible about lying to Shitty, but he did _not_ want to share anything about his problem with Diego and Bitty. At least not yet.

“Oh, ok,” said Shitty, though he still seemed slightly suspicious. “Well, you know I’ve got your back whatever you decide. And talk to me if you need to. Don’t make me wrestle it out of you.”

The corners of Jack’s mouth turned up almost imperceptibly. “Like that’s ever worked. You always get your ass handed to you.”

“Yeah, I always let you win, ‘cause I know it makes you feel better.” Shitty turned to go. “Well, I’m not missing out on s’mores ‘cause of you. Come down when you’re done brooding and you can chill with us.”

After he left, Jack went back to doodling plays. Thirty minutes later, though, he couldn’t ignore the sounds of laughter and chatting coming from outside. He got up and went over to the window that overlooked the front yard. Shitty, Lardo, Ransom, Holster, Dex, Nursey, Chower, Bitty, and Diego were all bundled up down below. They had dragged the green couch from the den outside in front of a large clay chimney, where they already had a roaring fire going. The frogs were apparently roasting marshmallows by committee, egged on by Ransom, Holster and Shitty. Lardo had already assembled a perfect s’more and was eating it with gusto. Diego and Bitty were curled up together at one end of the couch under a blanket. Diego had his arm around Bitty to ward off the cold and they were both smiling, clearly off in their own little world together.

Jack felt a mixture of extreme jealousy and utter helplessness looking at the happy scene below him. He realized he would have given anything to be there in Diego’s place, arm around Bitty in the company of all his closest friends, but he couldn’t bring himself to go downstairs and join the group. 

It started to snow lightly. Diego reached over and tenderly brushed a few errant snowflakes out of Bitty's hair.

Jack couldn’t take any more and turned away from the window. As he did so, he missed Bitty glance upward and notice him. Bitty frowned for a moment, but his attention was quickly diverted by a sudden game of “will it burn.”

Later that night, Jack was just drifting off to sleep when he heard some high, muffled laughter from the corridor outside his room. 

“Shhh, Bitty, _callate!_ ” Diego whispered, sounding amused. “Everyone else is asleep!” Jack heard Bitty’s door shut and a few faint scuffling sounds, but then it was quiet. Jack lay there, awake and staring up at the ceiling, for quite a long time afterward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've wanted to know more about Katya the ex-Soviet skating coach ever since she was first mentioned, way back here: http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com/post/59623525543. I would read ten thousand fics about a figure-skating double agent in Russia in the final years of the Cold War. (Meta-AU: Jack meets Katya and, using his history knowledge, writes a wildly successful series of novels on this exact theme.)
> 
> Chubby Bunny, for those who don't know, is a game where you're required to stuff marshmallows in your mouth continuously and say the words "chubby bunny" every time you add one. Whoever is able to say the words clearly with the most marshmallows in their mouth is the winner. You go through a lot of marshmallows.


End file.
